


in the dark (we glow like sparks)

by myriophyllous



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Camping, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Shenanigans, Stargazing, everything i know about summer camp in the 80s is straight out of wet hot american summer, not so much a bed as a blanket inside of a tent, steve harrington attempting to figure out what the hell he’s doing, the gang all goes to summer camp!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriophyllous/pseuds/myriophyllous
Summary: Steve Harrington, much beleaguered counselor at Camp Riverbend in Hawkins, Indiana, threw his hands up over his head as he stood in front of his boss, the camp director. It was his last week on the job. While so far it had been an overwhelming exercise in patience, he had mostly made it through the summer unscathed.But this? This was a wrench in his plan.





	in the dark (we glow like sparks)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/gifts).



> This was written for the Harringrove Holiday Exchange - Happy Holidays, moonflowers! I had a lot of fun writing this for you.
> 
> A million thank yous and heart emojis for [brawlite](http://brawlite.tumblr.com/) and [littlesystems](https://littlesystems.tumblr.com/) who 1. took me camping for the first time a few months ago, so I had some actual camping experiences to work into this fic, and 2. are the world’s best beta readers and fic-writing cheerleaders :D

 

 

“A week-long canoe trek? Are you shitting me?”

Steve Harrington, much beleaguered counselor at Camp Riverbend in Hawkins, Indiana, threw his hands up over his head as he stood in front of his boss, the camp director. It was his last week on the job. While so far it had been an overwhelming exercise in patience, he had _mostly_ made it through the last few months unscathed.

But this? This was a wrench in his plan. And he was so close to the end of the summer he could almost taste it.

His sleep had been better, at least, since coming to camp. Since he spent all day running around, he typically fell into bed with his tired body hitting the bunk like a sack of potatoes. But it was hard enough for him to sleep in a cabin full of snoring nerds even when exhausted, so Steve had no clue how he would fare in the woods, only a flimsy tent between him and the close press of trees. Ever since the Upside Down related events of last year, he pretty much only ventured outside at night when absolutely necessary. But, the only other option for summer employment with his particular lack of skill set was scooping ice cream at the local mall in a sailor suit, so he had taken the camp job. Which, he had been assured by his camp director, would involve sleeping in a _cabin_. With like, real walls.

His director took a long drag of his cigar, and fixed Steve with a withering glance. “I’d watch my mouth if I were you, Harrington. I don’t care what my secretary told you when you signed over your summer to me, but if you had bothered to read the terms of your employment you would have seen that all counselors over eighteen are required to supervise any campers signed up for the annual end of summer canoe trek.”

Steve sputtered somewhat helplessly, and let himself fall back down into the chair in front of the director’s desk. “Over eighteen? Are there even any other counselors over eighteen besides me? I know I’m the only one out of high school. And how the hell am I supposed to light a fire in the woods or keep those dickheads from drowning each other or from eating like, strange nature berries or building - ” Steve’s rambling was cut off with an upheld hand.

“Speak of the devil,” drawled his camp director, gesturing lazily towards the open doorway of his office. “Don’t worry. There's one other eighteen year old, and he’s assured me that his years of boy scout training and lifeguarding make him more than competent to handle a few kids on a walk in the woods.” Steve turned his head towards the door, and groaned internally at the sight. Or, perhaps, groaned a bit more externally than intended.

_“Him?”_

Billy Hargrove strolled into the office, shirtless as always, his small red lifeguard trucks barely covering his ass. He had a smile on his face a mile wide, and Steve could see him trying not to laugh out loud at the expression of shock that Steve knew he was making. Steve schooled his face into a more blank expression, and turned towards the camp director. “Him, sir? First of all, he was a junior last year, and I’d give good money that he was never a boy scout.”

Billy let out a small, theatrical gasp, and threw his hand over his heart, shaking his head back and forth with over-exaggerated zeal. “Harrington, you wound me. I’m really looking forward to our trip together.” He wagged his tongue, stepping closer to Steve's chair before veering away to walk up to the camp director.

Billy then turned his attention to the director. “He’re the documents you needed, Sir. Let me know if there's anything else.”

The director fixed them both with a curious look after taking the papers from Billy. “Well, it seems as if you boys are acquainted, so I’ll skip the niceties. You ship out tomorrow, bright and early, from the canoe shed by the river. You’ve got a week to get down the river to the designated pick-up point marked on these maps - one of the other counselors will meet you with the bus and bring you all back. Here’re your maps, a list of your campers - and your supplies and equipment will be ready for you in the canoes tomorrow morning. Any questions?”

Steve could only gape at him and accept the map. Billy stood next to him, hips canted slightly towards him, close enough that Steve could smell the clean scent of his sweat mixed with the warm coconut of his sunscreen.

Then, Billy slapped him hard on the back, and yanked Steve towards his side, thick fingers grasping his shoulder. His face cracked open in a wide smile. “Don’t worry about us Sir, I’ve got everything I need, and Harrington and I will make sure those kids have the time of their lives. See you next week.” Steve felt suddenly frozen in place, his head foggy -  every inch of his body acutely aware that this was the first time Billy had touched him since their fight all those months ago.

The camp director waved them off. Billy, still grasping Steve by the shoulders, gently pushed the both of them towards the door and out of the office. Steve let himself be led.

But when they stepped down the creaky wooden stairs of the director’s cabin, the bright sunlight hit Steve right in the eyes and snapped him out of his touch-induced brain fog.

What was he doing, letting Billy tug him around like this?

“Get off me!” Steve snapped, wiggling out from underneath Billy’s arm. “I’m not sure what your angle is, but I’m pretty sure last time I checked you’re not eighteen, and you certainly don't look like any boy scout I’ve ever met. I have no idea how you convinced the director of either of those things, but -”

Billy walked forward, and pressed his hand to Steve's chest, palm flat. Steve stopped mid-sentence, his body seizing up again at the touch. Why did everyone keep interrupting him?

“Calm down, pretty boy. I might have been a junior last year, but I turned eighteen last week - thanks for the birthday present, by the way. And, as for my wilderness training, I can assure you it’s all above-board. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re well fed and watered this week.”

Billy clicked his tongue and pushed Steve ever so slightly back before turning away, hand falling away from Steve’s chest. “Go back to your cabin and get a good night’s sleep, Harrington. I’ll see you at the river bright and early tomorrow - and don’t forget your sleeping bag.” Billy threw him an exaggerated wink and sauntered off across the meadow, back towards the lifeguard stand at the edge of the swimming pool.

Steve watched him walk away, watched him climb back up the stand, watched him stretch out on the bench like a cat, sun glinting off the planes of muscles in his back.

He still had no idea what Billy’s angle was. Ok, sure, Steve could believe he was actually eighteen, but was Billy really trying to strand himself, and Steve, and a bunch of kids, in the woods for a week with no clue how to build a fire or navigate trails?

Steve gave Billy one last glance before starting the walk back towards his cabin. His mind was still racing, though - lingering anxiety building up new questions inside his head. Sure, after everything that had happened last year they weren’t friends, really, but Steve thought they had _maybe_ moved past being outright enemies. Billy had given Steve a wide berth after beating his face in. He had basically ignored Steve in the halls at school, and kept his hands to himself on the court at basketball practice. He was still an asshole who was too clever by half, occasionally picking fights in the halls and talking shit in the locker room after practice about all the girls he had taken out, but he had mostly left Steve and the kids alone.

Though Steve could tell that Billy was still full of that same anger that had spilled out of him in the fall.

When Steve had arrived for the first day of camp and had seen Billy standing amongst the group of counselors, he had tensed up immediately. But, then he reassured himself that it would likely be a summer of more of the same - Billy continuing to be Billy, but mostly ignoring Steve. And he had been right. But he had noticed that Billy seemed a lot less...Billy, here at camp.

Sure, he still shouted out the occasional lewd remark across the mess hall at one of the female counselors, and he still drank too much at the Saturday night parties they had down by the river, after the campers had gone to sleep. But Steve no longer felt the intense wave of anger radiating off of him at every turn. He even saw Billy smile occasionally - less like a shark sizing up its prey, and more like a teenager laughing at a joke.

Steve had talked to Max about Billy once, checking in to see how she was doing a few weeks after the incident, bruises still healing on his face. She was vague, cagey, but he got the impression that some aspects of Billy’s home life were to blame for his bubbling undercurrent of anger. Maybe the prospect of a whole summer out from under his father’s roof had smoothed out his edges a bit. Or maybe not. Steve wondered why he was trying to speculate about all of this like someone who hadn't nearly failed his psychology elective. He decided to push the thought of Billy out of his mind for now.

It was only a week, anyway. Honestly, he was dreading the last day of camp far more than any trip down the river. The thought of going back to Hawkins with no clue what he wanted to do next with his life was something he was happy to avoid thinking about for another week.

Steve sat down on his bunk and folded open his packet of maps. He glanced down at the list of campers joining them on the trip - well, son of a bitch, the whole nerd herd was listed right at the top. At least one of them could probably build a fire, Steve reasoned.

They would be fine. He would be fine.

…

In retrospect, Steve shouldn't have been worried about a week with Billy - he should have been worried about a week with _Dustin_. Not that he didn’t love Dustin, he really did, but after ten hours of non-stop contact, Steve was going a little nuts.

It had started out ok, that morning. Steve had gathered the campers from his cabin, shaking the boys on his list awake before sunrise, making sure they had brought at least a few changes of underwear, and getting them out the door. Dustin was chattering away as they walked down the hill to the riverbank, and it had been almost calming. The peaceful, dewy morning around him, the sun peeking over the edges of the trees, the stillness of it all.

“...well, the second I remembered that you’d be the one leading this trip of course me and the guys had to sign up,and I mean this is the first year we’ve been old enough to be allowed on the trek, I made sure we were the first four on the list, Will’s not great in the water but Billy’s a good lifeguard so I figured even if he is an asshole he’s not gonna let him _die_ , at least, he’s been mostly non-psycho since Max nailed him with the…”

“Wait what?” Steve interrupted. “How the hell did you know Billy and I were leading the trip? Even I didn't know I was leading it until yesterday?”

Dustin looked up at him, clearly amused. “Steve, the canoe trek is always run by the counselors over eighteen, one of whom is always the lifeguard. - Come on! There’s Billy with the canoes.”

And there had been Billy with the canoes, in fact. Standing at the edge of the river, the morning light silhouetting his figure like some sort of demented halo. Steve didn’t know what about Billy always made him feel like his skin was too tight, like his clothes were ill-fitting, but something about being in his presence just put Steve off-balance. Billy was hoisting packs of equipment into the canoes, his shirt riding up in the back, and Steve’s stomach clenched.

A little part of him, a _little_ part that he was normally able to safely ignore, reminded him that he might be feeling so off-kilter around Billy for the same reason he kept that magazine with Rob Lowe on the cover that Nancy had left at his house last year. It’s not like he...jacked off _with_ it, or anything. Exactly. If he looked at it, and put it away, and _then_ let his imagination wander...well that was neither here nor there. Beside, he still clearly liked girls, so he had mostly decided it wasn’t too concerning. The current plan was to basically ignore the whole thing forever.

And even if that little part of him begrudgingly admitted that Billy _did_ make his head a bit foggy for that reason, he was not about to let his feelings develop further in that direction. Steve was in no mood to get his ass handed to him again. So he shoved it down like he always did, tore his eyes away from Billy’s silhouette, and clapped Dustin on the back.

“Come on, shitheads! Let’s get this show on the road!”

...

It had been, all things considered, a pretty good day. Not too muggy, sun bright in the sky, paddling down the river with occasional stops to snack or pee in the bushes. Steve was sharing his canoe with Dustin, Will, Mike and Lucas, of course. Billy’s canoe held the other four boys, who seemed to take to Billy’s particular brand of gross humor like a fish to water. While Dustin prattled in Steve’s ear about bird species and native plants, he could hear Billy’s bright laughter drifting back from further up the river, because of course _his_ canoe had to be leading.

The ride down the river had been pleasant at first. Steve admittedly was not a huge nature buff, but about half of what Dustin said about the plants and animals they were encountering was interesting. But about eight hours in, Steve’s arms were aching and his mind was atrophied from at least an hour of attempting to seem interested in Dungeons and Dragons. He was more than done. Dustin, of course, was mostly oblivious to all of this.

By the time they paddled up to the docking post next to their designated campsite for the night, Steve’s head was pounding. All he wanted was to eat three hundred hot dogs and curl up into a ball in his sleeping bag, alone.

However, when they started to set up camp and unpack the tents, he saw that there were only two large tents in the canoes. One tent for Steve and his campers, one tent for Billy and his campers. He could have cried. Was it better or worse to be terrified alone in the woods or talked to death all night?

That was it, he was sleeping in the canoe. Steve groaned, kneeling down with his head in his hands at the edge of the water.

He felt a rough hand on his shoulder, gripping him gently. He looked up to see Billy leaning over him. He looked almost...concerned? It was decidedly not a look Steve had seen on Billy’s face before. “You ok there, amigo?” Billy asked. He held out a canteen full of water, and Steve accepted it, taking a gulp, not caring as half the mouthful ran down his throat, streaking lines down his chest.

“I’m ok,” he croaked, wiping his jaw with his forearm.

He handed the canteen back, and Billy helped him stand, fingers gently tugging and running down Steve's shoulder, sending sparks radiating throughout his body. When Steve was fully standing, Billy suddenly yanked his hand away, and he quickly looked down for a second, eyes fixed on the ground before he brought them back up to meet Steve’s.

Steve couldn’t place the look that flashed past on Billy’s face. He looked almost _guilty_? Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and fearful of the repercussions. But the expression passed quickly, and was replaced by his usual lazy grin. “Is the beauty of our natural forest backdrop overwhelming you, Harrington? Or are your arms just about to fall off?” Billy laughed, flexing his hands like he too felt sore, but was not about to admit it.

“More like my ears,” Steve joked. “If I have to hear one more interesting fact about tadpoles I’m going to throw myself into the river and be done with it. I have no idea how I’m supposed to survive the night sharing a tent with them.”

Billy laughed, and his smile softened a bit. “Yeah, that’s not surprising given your choice of company. But please, Harrington, do you really think I’m sharing a tent with a bunch of pre-pubescent shitheads? I stole this from the equipment shed before we left - I was going to get you one as well, but this was the last one that didn't have holes bigger than your head.” Billy held up a bag containing a tent.

“Are you serious? You're really gonna set that thing up and sleep in there by yourself and force me to -”

Billy stopped Steve with a firm hand to his chest. “It’s a two person tent, Harrington. If you ask nicely, I might let you join me for the next few nights.” Billy winked, licking his lips in a overtly lewd fashion.

It might have been the exhaustion talking, or maybe those punches last fall had knocked something loose in him that would never slot back into place, or maybe he was truly a masochist who wanted to watch how Billy’s thick eyelashes fluttered when he slept. Possibly, it was just the promise of a night of quiet sleep where he didn't have to be alone.

Steve snatched the tent from Billy’s hands and smiled. “Keep in in your pants, Hargrove. I’ll set this thing up for us - now go build a fire before we have a hunger-related mutiny on our hands.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Billy called out as Steve walked away.

Later on that evening, full of hot dogs and wrapped in a worn flannel blanket, Steve sat near the edge of the fire pit. As the fire died down, he started to drift off. When he jolted back awake at the sound of raucous laughter from the nearby kids’ tents, he looked around and saw that Billy was gone. But he could see a figure laying on the edge of the riverbank, out past where the canoes were docked. Counting the heads inside the illuminated tents to make sure all the kids were accounted for, he waddled over to Billy, still wrapped up in his blanket.

He sat down next to Billy on the edge of the river, water a few inches from his toes. Billy was sprawled out on his back, eyes open wide towards the sky.

“Hey there, thought you had passed out.” Billy turned his head toward Steve, flashing him a lazy smile. “Figured I was going to have to carry you back to the tent or leave you for the wolves.”

Steve laughed bitterly, “Heh, like I’d ever stay asleep long sitting right next to the kids. God only knows what they’re hollering about right now. I assume that’s why you’re down here? ”

Billy scoffed. “C’mon, Harrington, look at this sky! You can’t see shit over by the firepit with all the trees, but out here it’s perfect. Though I gotta say, the lack of screeching is an added bonus.”

Steve smiled back, amused at the excited look on Billy’s face as he talked about the starry sky. It was surprising, to say the least. “Yeah, it’s pretty great,” he sighed, and laid down next to Billy, head pillowed in the soft grass. He was close enough to Billy that he could have reached out to brush his hand through those blonde curls, but he kept his hands tucked under his head. “Honestly, though, sometimes it’s overwhelming. If I look out there, and I start to think about like, all of the planets, and the universe, and all that science class stuff, it’s like my head’s going to explode from all the possibilities of what’s out there. There’s enough shit here on earth that I spend a lot of time trying to avoid thinking about, so the last thing I need is to add to the list.”

Billy looked at him curiously, then turned his head back towards the sky. “Yeah, I can see that.” Billy laid there silently for a few minutes, and Steve felt like he could hear the gears in Billy’s head turning, like he was unsure if he should say anything else. Finally, Billy spoke up again.

“To me, it’s like...I can finally _breathe_ when I’m out here. Something about the sky and all of the stars being so high up, no roof over me. Or maybe that it’s so big and I could just get lost in it, like no one would find me there if I just fucked off and never came back. It feels like freedom.” Billy trailed off, and Steve could hear his soft breathing, in and out.

They laid there together, Billy pointing out constellations, talking about the Milky Way, going on about a bunch of things Steve barely understood. Billy’s low voice was soothing against the sound of the river flowing beside them. Steve thought that it was almost a nice night. Having a nice night with Billy Hargrove - certainly one of the more unexpected parts of this trip so far.

Steve had no idea that he’d fallen asleep next to Billy until he was once again woken up by loud shouting from the kid’s tents, carrying across the campsite. He blinked his eyes slowly open, and saw that Billy was now laying on his side, facing Steve, staring right at him. The second their eyes met, Billy looked away, that guilty look flashing across his face again. He jumped up and away from Steve.

“I’m gonna go shut these kids up for the night,” he said, voice strained. “You should get into the tent, Harrington, we’ve got an early start tomorrow.” Billy stalked away, his posture stiff and full of tension.

Steve was too sleepy to dissect what he could have possibly done to make Billy go cold all of sudden, so he assumed that it was just annoyance with the kids being loud. He climbed into the tent, rolled himself into his sleeping bag, and drifted off. He was so exhausted that sleep came easily.

If Billy ever joined him in the tent, it was after Steve was fast asleep.

...

After that first night, something about the trip seemed to smooth out.

Billy, despite Steve’s initial misgivings, was surprisingly competent at shepherding everyone through the wilderness unscathed. He could make a fire easily, he could tell what time of day it was by looking up at the sun, and he was a pretty damn good campfire cook. He also had a first aid kit stashed somewhere and seemed unfazed by the sight of blood. Steve had panicked slightly on the second day when Will had tripped on a root during one of their hikes, gashing his eyebrow open on a rock. But Billy had shoved Steve aside, sat Will down, and bandaged him up like a pro.

Billy was indifferent to most of the kids so far on their trip, but he seemed to have a soft spot for Will that Steve couldn’t quite place. It was hard not to feel bad for the kid, though, knowing all the shit he had been though. Not that Billy would know about any of that.

Will was laughing by the time they were done, eyes bright as Billy joked with him about the possibility of a scar. “See here?” Billy pointed to his eyebrow, where Steve could see the hairs split slightly around a raised scar. “I’ve got one there too, got it when I was a few years younger than you. I patched it myself and it healed up just nicely enough to give me a badass scar.” Billy winked and waggled his scarred eyebrow as Will smiled softly. Soon they were all on their way back down to the canoes.

As they walked down, Steve fell back slightly from the group to stroll next to Billy.

“Thanks for that, with Will. I’m not great with blood.”

“No problem. I told you I was a boy scout. I actually was not fucking around with you on that count. It really pains me how much you doubt me, Harrington.” Billy wagged his eyebrows at Steve suggestively, drawing Steve’s eyes back to the scar there.

“Badass, huh?” Steve said, gesturing to Billy’s scar. “I think you might be exaggerating slightly there. What were you doing when you were a few years younger than Will to get a big bad scar? Did you punch a kid on the playground who actually knew how to hit back?” Steve laughed softly, expecting Billy to regale him with some tame story of the origins of his scar.

But Billy just stopped short, and fixed Steve with a dark glare, all previous ease erased from the lines of his body. “Fuck off, Harrington.” He turned away and stalked down the hill, leaving Steve in the dust, wondering what he could possibly have said wrong.

Billy spent the rest of the day pointedly ignoring Steve. After dinner, he walked over to their tent and shut himself inside, leaving Steve to get the the kids corralled into their tents and the fire extinguished. As the fire died down, Steve sat for a long time poking the embers with a stick. He debated whether it was worth risking the night in a small tent with a possibly volatile Billy. But in the end, the eerie, dark press of the woods around him drove him inside.

He opened the tent flap carefully, and was relieved to see that Billy was sound asleep. Steve wiggled into his sleeping bag as quietly as possible, and turned to face Billy. Billy looked peaceful, and Steve smiled to himself at the image of big bad Billy Hargrove curled up in front of him, chin tucked down and hands twined at his chest, like he was trying to make his body as small as possible. His breathing was quiet, measured, and occasionally his obscenely long eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.

Steve looked for a long time.

...

Billy seemed back to his usual self the next day - cracking jokes as he built the fire for breakfast, yelling at the kids to cut the shit and pack up their tents, standing shirtless at the edge of the water to brush his teeth. Steve tried not to focus on that last thing too much.

Steve was tasked with making breakfast that morning as Billy packed up the canoes, and he had no idea that making pancakes was so challenging. He had made a mess of one pan already, half burnt and half undercooked blobby pancakes sadly dumped into the fire. He was about to start on his second attempt when Billy walked up to him.

“Had enough of the geek squad already, Harrington? I figured when you cracked you’d shove them all off a cliff while hiking, not poison their breakfast. What in the _hell_ did you do to those damn pancakes?”

Steve looked up, sheepish. “Well, I added some blueberries from the supply bag, and I thought I might... _mash_ them a bit? Then the batter just went kind of...purple though? And they keep running together and clearly I have no idea when they need flipping, they’re either burned to a crisp or oozing everywhere when I try…”

Billy looked at him with a mix of amusement and pity. He grabbed the bowl out of Steve's hands and crowded into his space, pressing up against Steve’s back. Before Steve could register shock, Billy took Steve’s hands and began showing him how to slowly spoon the batter out, a little at a time, so that it could pool in small circles. Billy’s fingers lingered on Steve's arm as he pointed out the little bubbles on each pancake that popped up when it was ready to flip.

“So, when did you learn to become a master chef?” Steve joked, trying to hide the tension in his voice. Steve let himself lean into Billy, just a little bit. Surely a _little_ bit wouldn't hurt.

“Not sure about that,” Billy scoffed, “but when I was little, I used to make pancakes with my mom every Sunday morning, and she taught me how to make them like this.” Then he was quiet as his body tensed. Steve was pretty sure from the way Billy talked about his mom that she wasn’t around anymore.

Billy dropped Steve’s hand and let him make the last pancake on the griddle himself. Billy pulled away slowly, like he was reluctant to let go, and ran his fingers along Steve’s side.

“You’re welcome for the cooking demo,” Billy called out, walking back towards the canoes.    
“I’ll be back to taste the results.”

Steve’s entire body was on fire, and he had no clue how he was flipping the pancakes with his hands shaking. It was impossible to read Billy sometimes - he seemed to veer wildly from playful banter to cold shoulder to outright aggression and then just once, when they were stargazing,  to a shockingly open vulnerability. And now a cooking lesson, apparently. But he couldn't... _mean_ anything by touching Steve like that. He was just trying to keep him from destroying breakfast, clearly. Billy couldn’t really want...no. No way.

Steve sighed, composed himself, and went back to _almost_ not destroying his next batch of purple pancakes.

…

The next few days continued in the same fashion, and Steve was almost starting to consider Billy a friend. They had developed a begrudging camaraderie, with the wrangling of the kids and equipment and food prep over the course of the week. Steve had discovered he was actually decent with the food prep, deftly wielding the knife and peeler, and Billy was better with anything involving actual cooking. Steve could chat with the kids on their level, engage in their conversations, and Billy could manage their more adventurous ideas with a hard no. Steve was even enjoying their late night conversations by the fire. Talking shit about his former classmates, stealing sips from one of the flasks Billy had brought along, seeing who could make the fire jump and crack highest when putting on a new log.

He was also starting to really notice just how often Billy touched him. Ever since the morning they made pancakes together, Steve had decided to pay attention. There were moments, just moments, where Steve would look over at Billy, laughing about something stupid, and feel a familiar tug in his chest. And moments, late into the night, as the fire was dying down, where he swore Billy might be thinking the same thing. But every night ended the same way - Billy insisting that Steve go to sleep while he put out the fire and quieted the kids, and slipping into their tent after Steve had fallen asleep.

Steve assumed the last two days of the trip would be pretty much the same. But on the second to last day, they saw the bear.

Late in the afternoon they were paddling down the river in their canoes. Lucas was scanning the forest with his binoculars, occasionally calling out when he spotted an unusual bird or animal in the forest. They had seen a few foxes, an overwhelming amount of deer, and one slightly confused daytime raccoon that Billy insisted was rabid. Steve’s canoe, as usual, was trailing a few yards behind Billy’s. They were making their way through a zone with fast rushing water and large rocks when Lucas spotted the bear on the shoreline, walking towards the water.

The reaction was instantaneous. Mike and Lucas started shouting, nearly dropping their paddles, and Steve went into full protection/panic mode. Dustin, meanwhile, dropped _his_  paddle to start taking photos with the camera around his neck. “Guys! This is an amazing sighting! Black bears are rarely seen in this specific geographic area and that might mean -”

Steve’s heart was racing a mile a minute. “Dustin, I don’t care, pick up your _fucking_ paddle and row!”

Steve could see up the river that Billy must have heard the commotion. Even though Billy was pretty far ahead, Steve saw him trying to turn his boat around and navigate back upstream..

Steve was paddling as hard as he could, bear still close on the shoreline, and he could see the kids doing the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Billy’s boat approaching. But as they rowed through the rapids avoiding the rocks, a huge gush of water came out of nowhere - instantly capsizing him and the kids.

Everything went black for a split second, and Steve felt like his heart was being squeezed inside a vice. Steve floundered under the water and popped up like a cork, eyes searching the rushing water around him for the boys. Thankfully, Steve saw four heads pop out of the water. One after another, the boys began swimming towards shore. Billy jumped out of his canoe into the rapids, grabbed Steve’s canoe, and started dragging them both towards the opposite shore.

In all of the commotion, the bear had disappeared back into the woods and was nowhere in sight.

Steve dragged himself out of the river and immediately rushed over to the soaking wet kids. Gasping for breath, trying to calm himself down while still in caretaker mode, he frantically checked them over for wounds or broken bones. But, besides some killer looking bruises, they all seemed ok. They were already shouting about how this was the _coolest_ day ever. After a few minutes they were peeling off their wet shirts and flinging them at each other while laughing with the boys from the other canoe.

Steve sat on the shoreline, dimly aware that the kids were laughing, and that Billy seemed to be jumping into the river over and over, diving to the bottom and fishing out what supplies he could salvage. He hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face between them, anxiety racing through him as he tried to concentrate on breathing in and out. They were ok. It was all ok. Everything would be ok.

It was like his body was functioning on pure adrenaline and fear when he needed to act, to protect- and the second the coast was clear and everyone was safe it fell away to reveal just Steve, stripped down and small and paralyzed.

After what seemed like a million years, Steve felt a wet hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Billy.

Billy crouched down in front of him, and took Steve’s face in his hands. “You ok, Harrington? The kids said you’ve been sitting here curled up for like ten minutes, did you hit your head? Is your vision blurry? Can you look me in the eye?” Billy’s voice was firm, reassuring, and his hands carded through Steve’s hair, fingers carefully searching for a head wound.

If nothing else about this day had thrown him off kilter, this would have about done it.

In his mind, Steve could not reconcile this soft, measured voice and warm hands with the guy who had given him a serious concussion the year before. But that Billy seemed so far from the Billy of the past few days. He let himself lean into the touch, let the raging buzz inside his head die down, let himself glance up into Billy’s eyes. They were so fucking blue. He looked straight at Billy, holding his gaze, and he felt Billy give a sign of relief.

“I’m ok,” he croaked, weakly. Billy ran his hands up Steve’s arms, and cradled his face gently. Steve could see every little freckle on his nose, could see the little drops of river water on his eyelashes, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the safe harbor of Billy’s arms.

Billy raised his hand and carefully pushed Steve’s wet hair out of his eyes. Billy let his hand linger on Steve’s face, dragging slowly down the line of his jaw before dropping off. “Steve,” he said calmly, “You got this shit. Let’s get these kids back to the campsite.” Billy pulled Steve’s shaking body into his chest, and held him for just a second before releasing him.

“We’re gonna get up now. Are you ok to stand?”

Steve nodded, just barely, and Billy grasped Steve by the arms and hoisted him onto his feet.

Billy helped Steve to his canoe, and shouted out for the kids. “Get yourselves over here! We’ve been running late all day and now we’ve got an hour till sunset and an hour till we hit the campsite, and I’m not about to pull some night vision goggles out of my ass! Let’s move!”

The ride over to that night’s campsite was uneventful, except for the newly discovered joys of trying to row a boat in soaking wet clothes. But the kids were in good spirits, and Steve’s nerves had mostly died down by the time they made it to the campsite an hour later. Now the only issue was the cold setting in - it was an unusually cold and windy night and it was only getting harder to see as the sun set.

Dustin and the others could also clearly tell he was still a little freaked out. Steve smiled as they cracked bad jokes while setting up the two big tents and the kid’s sleeping items, which had luckily all been stowed on the canoe that had not capsized. The setup took much longer than usual by the light of the fire and the few battery lanterns they had still functioning.

“Hey Dustin!” Lucas shouted from the other side of the campsite, where he was hanging up wet clothes on a tree. “If you’re in the woods, how can you tell if a tree is a dogwood?”

Dustin promptly fell over laughing. “Hmm, that’s a real puzzler, Lucas!! Maybe...by its bark?!”

Will joined Dustin in laughing while Mike rolled his eyes and groaned.

Dustin shot back with a joke of his own. “Ok, so - What’s gray, has four legs and a trunk?”  

Will looked confused. “An elephant?” he guessed.

Dustin, still sitting on the ground laughing, shouted “No, a mouse going camping!”

Mike groaned again and threw up his hands. “That doesn't even make sense! In what world is a mouse camping or even packing things in a trunk! It’s not even a _good_ bad joke!”

The kids descended into squabbles as Steve popped the last pieces of the tent into place. He was about to push in between them and tell them to chill out, when Billy walked over from sorting through the wet items from the capsized canoe. Steve figured Billy would tell them to shut up and move on, but then he opened his mouth.

“Henderson, you call that a joke? Sad, _sad_...I’ve got one better for you.” Dustin looked only slightly terrified as Billy leaned over him.

Billy laughed softly to himself and launched into this joke. “So, here's the scene: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson decide to go on a camping trip. After dinner they lay down for the night and go to sleep.” Billy shot Steve a glance as he said this, then turned back to the kids and continued.  
  
“So then, a few hours later, Holmes wakes up, and then wakes up his sleeping friend.

“‘Watson’ he says, ‘Look up at the sky and tell me what you see.’

“Watson replies, ‘I see millions of stars.’

“So then, Homes asks him - ‘ _So_ , what does that tell you?’

“Watson thinks about it for a minute, and answers. ‘Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and billions of planets. Based on the position of the moon, I can see that the time is three in the morning. Meteorologically, I believe that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. What does it tell you, Holmes?’”

Billy licked his lips, and quickly glanced away from the kids to shoot Steve a huge smile. He turned back to Dustin to deliver the punchline.

“Holmes looks over at Watson, silent for a minute, then says: ‘Watson, you _idiot_. Someone has stolen our tent!’”

Billy broke into an even bigger smile, and the kids all dissolved into laughter and groans, except for Mike, who just glared at Billy skeptically. “ _Ugh_ , can you even read?”

Steve was laughing a bit as well, though he was only somewhat sure of who the hell Billy was referring to. Had they read about those guys in English his sophomore year, the class he kept cutting to get an early lunch with Tommy? Mostly, he was confused that Billy seemed so assured of himself intellectually to spar with the kids. Or that he’d even bother with joining them in jokes at all.

Billy ignored Mike and pushed past the kids. Pointing back towards the firepit, he switched back into camp counselor mode. “Ok, ok, joke time’s over - it’s already almost midnight and we’ve got an early start tomorrow to get to that bus on time! I know none of you want to miss sneaking off to kiss your lady friends at the last night of camp party. The fire should be big enough by now, go cook us some hot dogs, you little shits! I’ve gotta talk to Harrington.”

Billy sauntered up to him, lazy smile still plastered on his face. “You like my joke, Harrington? I figured you could use a little cheering up, still, and those dipshits aren't exactly professional comedians like me.” Billy wagged his tongue suggestively. Steve fixed him with a skeptical glance, but it was softened by the realization that Billy had most likely joined in the joking to cheer him up after his panic earlier.

Steve allowed himself a quick glance down the line of Billy’s body, still clad in river-damp clothing, and he noticed that Billy was carrying what looked like two very sad, dripping wet sacks. When Steve realized what it was, his face fell.

“Yeah, so about our sleeping bags and duffels…” Billy trailed off. “They were the only ones packed on your canoe, so it looks like we’re sleeping in just our wet clothes tonight. I’d try to squeeze them out but they’re never going to dry in time for us to use them.”

“Ughhhh, seriously man?” Steve groaned. In his panic he had totally forgotten that his and Billy’s things were all on the capsized canoe.

“Sorry about it, Harrington. I did at least manage to get our tent up, it’s so thin it’s mostly dry. And I stole one blanket from the kids to line the bottom. I’ll think we’ll survive the night.” Billy looked up at him somewhat bashfully.

Steve sighed and gave him what he hoped was a look of begrudging camaraderie, and started walking towards the firepit. Internally, he was at about a 80 on the Steve panic scale. How was he supposed to sleep with no sleeping bag buffer on one tiny blanket with the guy he definitely did NOT have any kind of crush on at all…

But he managed to play it cool. “C’mon, Hargrove, let’s at least get dry by the fire. My hair’s still soaked and it’s so cold out here my balls have got icicles.” It wasn't _that_ cold out, really, but Steve was chilled from the freezing cold river, and the damp seemed to be seeping into his bones from his wet clothes.

Billy barked out a laugh, and fell into step besides Steve.

Later, once the kids had been fed and packed into their tents, Billy and Steve were sitting by the embers of the fire, sharing the last of Billy’s flask.

“Nice joke, earlier, by the way,” Steve said after a sip. “I think everyone but Mike was pretty impressed at your nerdy humor. Since when did you do your english homework?”

“ _Nerdy?_ ” Billy feigned a gasp, and clasped his hand to his chest. “I love those books, man, I don't care what you say. But we didn't even read them at school out in Cali, I’ve just had a bunch of them since I was little.”

He paused for a few minutes, staring at the fire. Steve was silent - he had learned on this trip that that if he just waited when Billy got like this, all introspective and open, that he might say something real.

Billy took the flask from Steve’s hands. Their fingers brushed, and Billy looked Steve straight in the eyes before pulling his hand away. Steve could feel it again, the thread between them, and his fingers itched to reach back out. Steve tried, as always, to shove it back down, but it was getting harder and harder.

Billy looked towards the fire and took the final swig of whiskey. “My mom, she left me her whole collection of the books. We used to read them together all the time when I was little - they’re like _real_ old copies, I think she must’ve read them like, with her dad. I used to play detective with her all the time, she would hide shit around the house for me while my dad was at work and she’d be the Watson to my Holmes.” Billy laughed to himself. “Now that I think about it, it seems so stupid, but she was so into it that it just felt magical, almost. Those books are one of the only things coming with me, after tomorrow.”

“What’s after tomorrow?” Steve asked.

“Last day of camp, baby!” Billy looked over at Steve, eyes shining. “And I’m eighteen now. So after tomorrow I’m driving back to my shithole father’s house, grabbing my clothes, my books, and my records, and me and the Camero are hitting the road.”

“Back to California?” Steve asked, confused. His mind was racing. “But, you haven't even graduated…”

“Well. there’s always a GED.” Billy winked, gesticulating wildly with the empty flask. “I can’t stay in that house another day. Why do you think I’ve been so damn skippy all week, Harrington? I’m so close to getting away I can taste it. Come next week it’s sayonara, Hawkins, and fuck you too, Dad! Say goodbye to your piece of shit, _faggot_ son! Woo woo!” Billy cackled darkly, raising the flask over his head and tossing it aside.

Billy leaped up, jumping in front of Steve. He stood over Steve and held out his hands.

Steve took the offer and let Billy yank him up roughly. With the suddenness of the movement, Steve crashed forward, uneasy on his feet after a few drinks, and fell right into Billy’s chest. Steve grasped Billy’s waist, pressing their bodies together as he tried not to fall. Billy looked right at him with eyes that looked as wide as Steve’s felt.

Their faces were so, so close, and Steve felt the air around them shift, felt warm all over despite the cold wind. Billy laughed again, quietly, and licked his lips, and Steve couldn't help himself. He was an idiot, Steve Harrington, but he couldn't stop himself anymore and Billy’s eyes were so open and he was just done fighting it - he pressed a soft, tentative kiss to Billy’s lips, catching the edge of his tongue.

Billy pressed forward for just a second, pulling Steve closer and returning his kiss. Steve was trembling, and he could feel every place that Billy was touching him like it had been burned with a brand.

But suddenly and abruptly, Billy pulled back and looked away, his face hidden in shadow. “Awww, come on Harrington, don’t act like you’ll really miss me. I’m going to sleep, it's like two o’clock and we’ve got to be up with the sun tomorrow to make that bus back to camp.”

Steve stood there motionless as Billy walked towards the tent and climbed inside. After a few minutes of lingering in the darkness, he followed.

Billy was curled into the side of the tent, body tight on the bare blanket that lined the floor, eyes firmly shut. Steve guessed that was it - whatever Billy might be feeling, it seemed like he had closed the door on it. Steve shivered in his still partially damp clothes, no sleeping bag to warm him, and laid down on the other side of the tent. He prayed he was exhausted enough to fall asleep quickly.

An hour later, Steve was still awake. A combination of the howling winds outside, his damp clothes, and the chill in the air had set his mind racing. He tossed and turned on the ground, trying to use a small corner of the blanket to drape over his side and get some rest.

He kept running his tongue over his lips unconsciously, thinking about Billy calling himself a faggot, about Billy’s fingers low on his back, about the jagged scar on Billy’s face and the way his lips tasted. Thinking about Max’s fear of Billy’s father, and Billy’s blue, blue eyes when he smiled. Trying to tell himself that it didn’t matter anymore. Billy was gone after tomorrow, anyway. He turned over again and again, trying to dull his racing mind, until he felt Billy stir next to him.

Steve started to panic slightly. “Sorry, sorry,” Steve whispered, sheepish. “It’s just like, _so_ cold? How is it this cold in August? And the ground is hard and there's all these rocks and I’ll just fuck off and sleep in the canoe or something, sorry?”

Billy looked at him and paused. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind. He cleared his throat and looked away for a second, and then turned towards Steve, eyes dark and lidded. “Come here,” he said, gesturing towards Steve.

“Wait, what?” Steve sputtered.

“You’re freezing, right? And still all wound up from the boat crash? And we’ve got one blanket and need to get some sleep? Just...c’mere.”

Steve sputtered. There was no way Billy was serious. He had just pushed Steve away after the kiss by the fire, and now he was offering his arms again? But Billy looked so warm, and so _scared_ the longer Steve sat there, deciding what to do. And Steve was so, so tired. Tired of wanting him, tired of trying to be something he couldn't be, tired of the cold wet ground.

“Come on.” Billy said, gently. “Let’s just sleep, and you can forget about it all in the morning like a bad dream. And after tomorrow night, I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

Steve felt like crying or screaming, or maybe punching Billy in the face. But instead he crawled into Billy’s arms, and curled up into his chest. Billy wound the blanket around them and tangled their legs, pressing his warm calves against Steve’s frozen toes. Steve could smell him everywhere, the warm coconut of his sunscreen mixed with the pine scented smoke of the fire.

Steve lay there for a few minutes listening to Billy’s heartbeat. He knew that he should just try to sleep and forget this in the morning. But he had never been super great at doing anything the way he was supposed to, so why start now?

“What if I don’t want to forget?” he whispered into Billy’s chest.  

Billy pulled away slightly to look at Steve. They were so close that even in the darkness Steve could see Billy’s throat working, and that his face was streaked with tears.

“Steve...” Billy choked out, his voice thick and strained. “I...I can’t. I can’t. I’m leaving after tomorrow, and that _has_ to be the only thing that matters. Everything this week...you...isn’t allowed to get in the way.”

Steve swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. “Ok,” he said, looking into Billy’s eyes. “Ok, so tonight is a dream and in two days you’re gone. But I want to kiss you, right now, and I know you want it too. Please...let me have this, tonight?” Steve let out a cracked laugh. “Let me at least remember you fondly? I just have so many fucking regrets about the past few years and I don't want this to -”

Billy silenced Steve with a searing kiss, twining his fingers into Steve’s hair and pulling him closer. Steve felt his whole body shudder, and he pulled himself further into Billy’s embrace. “Fuck me...fucking hell...” Billy gasped, in between kisses. “I drive myself crazy over you for a fucking _year_ and then two nights before I leave…”

Steve laughed into Billy’s open mouth, feeling overwhelmed. Had Billy really…? _Don’t think about it, don't think about it,_ he told himself - _just kiss him, stupid, and squeeze every last second you can out of it_. Steve had no idea how long they were laying there, kissing with their bodies twined. The last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep was Billy pressing soft kisses into his hair, whispering words so quietly Steve could barely hear them.

...

When Steve woke up the next morning, he was cocooned in the blanket and Billy was gone.

Steve took a few minutes to compose himself before braving the reality of getting up and exiting the tent. In his cocoon, he reminded himself again that whatever happened last night was over now, and that the kids would all be there when he walked out into the campsite. But he couldn't stop replaying it over and over in his head...a year? Billy had liked him for that long? He was overwhelmed with thinking about what that meant about Billy, and what it meant about himself and the knowledge made him _ache_.

He also couldn’t stop thinking about what Billy had said about leaving town, and how it only made him feel even more trapped. Sure, this summer had been fun. But the stark reality of two days from now was about to set in. After the fight with his dad about bombing all of his college applications, the job offers from him had dried up. It’s not like Steve wanted that job, really even a little bit, especially since the breakup with Nancy had crushed his dreams of their white picket fence future together. But god, the last thing he wanted was to be a townie loser stuck in some dead end job - and it was increasingly feeling like that was his future.

He wondered what it would feel like to just get in his car and drive away from Hawkins. What it would be like to wake up every morning in a house on the beach in California.

He was jolted out of his racing thoughts by a sudden pounding on the tent wall. “Steeeeeeeve!!!” Dustin shouted, before he unzipped the front panel and poked his head in. “Steve, how are you still sleeping, Billy’s already cooked breakfast and packed up everything else, but he refused to let us wake you up until right before we had to leave, are you having your insomnia issues again Steve? Remember I talked to you about some -”

“I’m fine, Dustin, I’m ok,” Steve interrupted. “You try falling asleep on a pile of rocks and a flimsy blanket, I should have stolen your all of your sleeping bags and made you sleep outside. Now get out of here so I can change.”

Dustin looked unimpressed. “Steve, your clothes are all hanging on the tree where they were drying? So unless you’re planning on making a blanket dress you might -”

“OK!” Steve shouted. “I’m coming, I’m coming…”

Steve let himself be dragged out of the tent and over to the tree where he began to gather his things. He could see Billy out of the corner of his eyes as he packed up his bag, making plates of food for the kids and putting out the fire.

As Steve was taking down the last of his clothes, he felt someone approach him from behind. It was Billy, holding a plate of perfectly made purple pancakes. He looked up at Steve tentatively.

“Made you a plate. You should eat something before we head out in a few minutes, long way to go before we reach the bus pickup today.” Billy handed him the plate and turned away quickly, hiding his face.  

Steve looked down at the pancakes, bright purple with mashed blueberries like the ones Billy had helped him make that first morning. He felt something warm growing inside of him, and he knew he should just ignore it - but instead, he called out to Billy. “Hargrove! Thanks for the pancakes, but did you copy my signature recipe here?”

Billy turned back to look at him, and for just a moment, his face broke open in a real, genuine smile. “What can I say, Harrington? I’ve always liked your style.”

Steve tried to fight the blush on his cheeks, but it was impossible. He sat down and ate his purple pancakes, then headed out to the canoes to start the journey home.

...

When they made it back to camp late that afternoon, it was almost time for the end-of-camp bonfire. Steve had barely spoken to Billy all day, and they hadn't gotten a second alone - they piloted their separate canoes all morning, and on the bus ride back to camp Billy had chosen the seat up front to nap, while Steve hung out with the kids in the back.

Steve was really going to miss spending his days with his adopted pack of nerds. After all the Upside Down-related events they had all gone through together, a summer free from constant terror had been a nice change. But next week the kids would start high school and would get busy with clubs and advanced science class homework and possibly even girlfriends, and where would Steve be? Most likely slinging ice cream at the mall and wishing he was back in high school. God, what a depressing thought. If that ice cream job was even still available, that is.

And where would Billy end up, he wondered. Steve could picture him back in California so easily, like Billy had never left - days on the beach, sun leaving his hair streaked with brassy blonde, and nights out in the city, driving his car along the sunset strip. He’d be happy there, Steve thought.

Billy vanished as soon as they got back to camp. Steve herded the boys back to their cabin, and busied himself unpacking his bag from the trek and re-packing his suitcase to head back home tomorrow. The boys threw all of their items in their bags haphazardly, and started getting ready for the bonfire while Steve tried to organize the mess inside the cabin for the end of camp bunk inspection. He waved them off when the boys told him it was time to head to the bonfire. There was no way he was letting his boss dock his last paycheck for a dirty cabin, he told himself. That was definitely the only reason he was afraid to head down to the bonfire.

He got back to work.  Somehow, before he realized how long he had been cleaning, it was ten o’clock and the bonfire celebration was nearly over. Steve’s stomach had been churning for hours, torn between wanting desperately to see Billy again, and then thinking maybe he should just let him go, let Billy leave without saying goodbye. He kept flashing back to Billy’s fingers in his hair soothing him to sleep, their nights of shared laughter around the campfire, that dark look in Billy’s eyes right before Steve kissed him for the first time.

Steve looked at the clock on the wall again and shoved his face into his hands, pulling at his hair. Ok, ok. He was going stop waffling and decide. He was capable of doing at least that.

He had to see Billy one more time.

Steve left the cabin and walked down the long, dark trail to the riverbank, where the last night of camp party was already winding down. Most of the kids were sitting around the edges of the fire on blankets, chatting quietly. Steve picked up his pace.

Steve reached the bonfire and halfheartedly greeted a few of his fellow counselors, but he was laser focused on locating Billy, who it seemed no one had seen all night. He even located the boys from Billy’s cabin - but they said that Billy had walked them to the bonfire a few hours ago and then disappeared.

Overwhelmed and frustrated, Steve sat down at the edge of the river. He knew Billy had to be _somewhere_ on the grounds of the camp. They got their final paychecks after the morning bunk inspection, and there was no way he’d leave before that. Steve wracked his brain, thinking about where the hell Billy might be. Steve didn't really know much about where Billy hung out at camp. Billy had mostly ignored him all summer, keeping that intentional distance between them that he had maintained after the fight. The thought that Billy had secretly wanted him that entire time made him want to vomit, but mostly in a good way.

It was just so much to process.

Steve laid back in the grass and looked up at the stars. Billy was right - here at the edge of the river, away from the tall trees, the vast open spread of the sky was almost magical. Steve thought about how Billy had looked in the moonlight that first night of their trip, how he had fallen asleep outside and woken up to catch Billy watching him sleep. How Billy had blushed and run away in fear that Steve might notice, might _see_ him. Steve had never realized how Billy wanted so much to be seen by him - not for the flashy persona he put on, but for everything he worked so hard to hide.

Then, instantly, it dawned on him - _the observation tower_. A mile or so down the river from the bonfire, at the edge of the campgrounds, Steve knew there was an old wooden observation tower that the camp still used a few times per summer, fitted with a small telescope and a viewing platform. Billy had never mentioned it before, but Steve couldn’t imagine a better place to be alone and look at the stars. It was worth a shot, at least.

As Steve trekked across camp to where he was pretty sure the tower was located, he cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight. His bat would have been nice, as well, as the shapes of the trees loomed tall around him. But luckily the moon was bright enough that he managed to navigate to the base of the tower, and locate the ladder that ran up the side.

He hesitated for just a second. He had no idea what he was even going to say if Billy was up there. But he had come this far, so he started climbing.

When he reached the top, Billy was sitting there alone on the edge of the platform. He looked up and saw Steve, and for a second he looked so terrified that Steve wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. But Steve was never one to back down from a confrontation - he walked across the platform and sat down next to Billy, consequences be damned.

Billy was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the sky above him. “I’m actually pretty impressed that you found me here, Harrington. I see your detective skills have improved.” Billy turned to him and flashed him a small smile.

Steve laughed softly. “Well, you know, I learned from the best.” He nudged Billy in the side. “ _Detective William Hargrove, self trained by years of reading mystery novels, is on the case!_ ”

Billy laughed and shoved him back. “I’m not so sure about that. I do love it out here, though. I wasn’t sure I would make it back before the end of the summer, but when I showed up at the bonfire and saw all the kids there without you, I figured you were avoiding me.”

Billy sighed and looked away. “I get it - you were a little too drunk last night, you're not queer like me, you were just cold and lonely and I was there and now you don’t - “

“Stop -” Steve said, interrupting Billy before he could get any further, fingers reaching out to brush the soft cotton of Billy’s shirt. “That’s not...that’s not how I feel.” Billy shot him a skeptical look, and Steve tried to clarify. “I...I’m not sure that I’m queer, exactly, I loved Nancy, for sure, but I can't shake how I feel about you, and it’s not exactly the first time I’ve felt like this,” Steve said, thinking of his Rob Lowe magazine and a few specific locker room showers, a flush rising on his cheeks. “And last night is running through my head on repeat and I want more of it. I want so much more…

Billy stayed quiet, so Steve continued.

“I really thought you hated me before last week and I would have said goodbye to you without a second glance. But I know now that you love bad jokes and you can cook amazing food on a campfire and you can calm me when I’m freaking out and now - I think that I want you, I _do_ want you. So, so much, you actual asshole, but you’re leaving, so I can’t feel that way.” Steve pulled away from Billy and pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to keep himself from spiraling. “And all I can think about is how after you leave I’ll still be here in Hawkins, where I always am, even more alone than I felt when summer started. And I’m so _tired_ of being alone.”

Billy reached up and carefully pried Steve’s hands away from his face. He looked down at his lap and held Steve’s hands for a few minutes, just gently rubbing his thumb along Steve’s palm.

“What exactly are you saying, Harrington. Are you saying you would...come with me? Come to California? Leave Hawkins, tomorrow?”

Steve nodded, feeling impulsive. A part of him knew that he might be making a huge mistake, but where had all his best laid plans over the past few years really gotten him? Instead of marrying Nancy and starting a great job, he was alone and staring down the barrel of a bleak career future. He’d almost died so many times over the last two years, and now he wanted desperately to just _live_.

“And you’re not trying to…” Billy trailed off for a second. “ You’re not fucking with me? You want this...you want _me_?”

Steve nodded again, and crowded forward into Billy’s space. “The only thing I know is that I don't wanna be stuck in Hawkins forever. I don’t know who I am, or what I’m going to be. But I think I want to try to figure that out, with you.” Steve pressed himself into Billy’s lap and kissed him, winding his arms around Billy’s shoulders. Billy responded instantly, licking back into Steve’s mouth.

“No...Steve, stop, I can’t….I can’t.” Billy groaned, breaking the kiss. His pupils were blown wide, and his whole body was trembling. “I can’t do this, not now. I can't kiss you again if I don't get to keep you.”

Steve wanted to argue, but Billy plowed ahead.

“I want you to think about it - I’m giving you twenty-four hours. If you still want to come, I'll be at your house at five in the afternoon tomorrow. If you want this...if you wanna try this with me in California, when I honk the horn, you can shoot me that pretty boy smile from your bedroom window, and come outside, and we leave together.” Billy swallowed, and looked down at his feet. “And if you change your mind, it’s okay. I’ll drive away and never look back.”

Billy let go of Steve gently, and stood up. He took his flashlight and handed it to Steve. “I know you didn’t bring one of your own, you sorry excuse for a boy scout. I’m gonna go, now, and...I guess it’s up to you if I see you tomorrow.”

Billy shot Steve a soft, wistful smile, and took the ladder down the platform. Steve laid back on the platform and looked up at the sky, mind racing.

He stared at the stars for a long time.

 

…

 

It was 5:20 on the day after the bonfire, and Billy was not ok.

He should have been feeling good, feeling like his life was about to actually begin. He should have gotten the hell out of town the second he finished packing up his bags, after he left a note for Max promising to write her soon, and before his dad got home and noticed he was missing. Instead, he had parked at the edge of the quarry for the last 20 minutes, debating whether it would be worse to go to Steve’s house and leave empty handed, or to throw himself off a cliff and just skip the tragedy.

But he finally gathered up his tangled nerves up, and got back into his car. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, and if Steve didn’t...well, Billy’d at least always have that last memory of Steve, of kissing him under the stars.

The drive to Steve’s house felt like it took a million years, and Billy’s palms were sweating on the wheel as he pulled his car into Steve’s driveway. From the car, he could see a lamp glowing in Steve’s bedroom window. He steeled himself, took a deep breath, and honked the horn.

The seconds ticked by, and Billy was like a live wire, lit up bright on the inside with anxiety and uncertainty, knuckles white as he gripped the wheel like a lifeline.

He couldn’t help when his thoughts started to spiral. What the fuck had he been thinking? Why did he get his hopes up? Why did he ever think  - until Steve shoved his head out of his bedroom window, flashed Billy his biggest pretty boy smile, and headed outside.

 

...

 

That night, they sat together on the roof of the Camaro, parked on the side of the road somewhere far from Hawkins, and looked at the stars for a long, long time.

 

 

 

 


End file.
